ML 


41 0 

iV4HS  VERDI 


UC-NRLF 


B    3    Sib    fllD 


^ 


^f 


^ 


GIFT  or 

Sir  Henry  Heyman 


Verdi 


^:    I  4-    I    0 


Copyright,  1901,  by  Elbert  Hubbard. 


Of  all  the  operas  that  Verdi  wrote, 

The  best,  to  my  taste,  is  the  Trovatore ; 
And  Mario  can  soothe,  with  a  tenor  note, 

The  souls  in  purgatory. 

The  moon  on  the  tower  slept  soft  as  snow ; 

And  who  was  not  thrilled  in  the  strangest  way. 
As  we  heard  him  sing,  while  the  gas  burned  low, 

"  Non  ti  scordar  di  me  "  ? 

****** 

But  O,  the  smell  of  that  jasmine  fiiower ! 

And  O,  the  music !  and  O,  the  way 
That  voice  rang  out  from  the  donjon  tower, 
"  Non  ti  scordar  di  me, 
♦♦  Non  ti  scordar  di  me ! " 

BULWER-LYTTON 


bl}^^y  '^^ 


GIUSEPPE    VERDI 


<:!/C> 


^(mi 


E  sort  of  clung  to  the  iron  pickets,  did  GIUSEPt^E 
Ithe  boy,  and  pressed  his  thin  face  through  VERDI 
the  fence,  and  listened.  Some  one  was 
I  playing  the  piano  in  the  big  house,  and 
I  the  windows  with  their  little  diamond 
I  panes  were  flung  open  to  catch  the  even- 
ing breeze  ^  He  listened. 
I  His  big  grey  eyes  were  open  wide,  the 
pupils  dilated, — he  was  trying  to  see  the 
music  as  well  as  hear  it. 
The  boy's  hair  matched  the  yellow  of  his 
face,  being  one  shade  lighter,  sun-bleach- 
ed from  going  hatless.  His  clothes  were 
as  yellow  as  the  yellow  of  his  face,  and 
shaded  off  into  the  dust  that  strewed  the 
street.  He  was  like  a  quail  in  a  stubble 
field — you  might  have  stepped  over  him 
and  never  seen  him  at  all  ^  He  listened^ 
Almost  every  evening  someone  played 
Ithe  piano  in  the  big  house.  He  had  dis- 
covered the  fact  a  week  before.  And  now 
I  when  the  dusk  was  gathering,  he  would 
watch  his  chance  and  slide  away  from 
I  the  hut  where  his  parents  lived,   and 
run  fast  up  the  hill,  and  along  the  shelv- 
ing roadway  to  the  tall  iron  fence  that 
|marked  the  residence  of  Signior  Barezzi. 
He  would  creep  along  under  the  stone 
wall  and  crouching  there,  would  wait 

8i 


GfUSEPPE  and  listen  for  the  music.  Several  evenings  he  had  come 
VERDI  and  waited,  and  waited,  and  waited, — and  not  a  note  or 
a  voice  did  he  hear. 

Once  it  had  rained,  and  he  didn't  mind  it  much,  for  he 
expected  every  moment  the  music  would  strike  up, 
you  know, — and  who  cares  for  cold,  or  wet,  or  even  hun- 
ger, if  one  can  hear  good  music !  The  air  grew  chill  and 
the  boy's  thread-bare  jacket  stuck  to  his  bony  form 
like  a  postage  stamp  to  a  letter.  Little  rivulets  of  water 
ran  down  his  hair  and  streamed  off  his  nose  and  cheeks. 
HT  He  waited — ^he  was  waiting  for  the  music. 
He  might  have  waited  until  the  water  dissolved  his  in- 
significant cosmos  into  just  plain  yellow  mud,  and 
then  he  would  have  been  simply  distributed  all  along 
the  gutter,  down  to  the  stream,  and  down  the  stream 
to  the  river,  and  down  the  river  to  the  ocean ;  and  no 
one  would  ever  have  heard  of  him  again. 
But  Signior  Barezzi's  coachman  came  along  that  night, 
keeping  close  to  the  fence  under  the  trees  to  avoid  the 
wet ;  and  the  coachman  fell  over  the  boy. 
Now,  when  we  fall  over  anything  we  always  want  to 
kick  it, — no  matter  what  it  is,  be  it  a  cat,  dog,  stump, 
stick,  stone,  or  human.  The  coachman  being  but  clay 
(undissolved)  turned  and  kicked  the  boy.  Then  he 
seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  accused  him  of  being  a 
thief.  The  lad  acknowledged  the  indictment,  and  stam- 
meringly  tried  to  explain  that  it  was  only  music  he 
was  trying  to  steal ;  and  that  it  really  made  no  differ- 
ence because  even  if  one  did  fill  himself  full  of  the 
82 


music,  there  was  just  as  much  left  for  other  people,  GIUSEPPE 
since  music  was  different  from  most  things.  VERDI 

The  thought  was  not  very  well  expressed,  although 
the  idea  was  all  right,  but  the  coachman  failed  to  grasp 
it.  So  he  tingled  the  boy's  bare  legs  with  the  whip  he 
carried,  by  way  of  answer,  duly  cautioning  him  never 
to  let  it  occur  again,  and  released  the  prisoner  on 
parole  jar  <r 

But  the  boy  forgot  and  came  back  the  next  night.  He 
sat  on  the  ground  below  the  wall,  intending  to  keep 
out  of  sight ;  but  when  the  music  began  he  stood  up, 
and  now,  with  face  pressed  between  the  pickets,  he 
listened  iff  iff 

The  wind  sighed  softly  through  the  orange  trees ;  the 
air  was  heavy  with  the  perfume  of  flowers ;  the  low  of 
cattle  came  from  across  the  valley,  and  on  the  evening 
breeze  from  an  open  casement  rose  the  strong,  vibrant 
yet  tender  strains  of  Beethoven's  Moonlight  Sonata. 
The  lad  listened. 

**  Do  you  like  music  ?  **  came  a  voice  from  behind.  The 
boy  awoke  with  a  start,  and  tried  to  butt  his  head 
through  the  pickets  to  escape  in  that  direction.  He 
thought  it  was  the  coachman.  He  turned  and  saw  the 
kindly  face  of  Signior  Barezzi  himself. 
**  Do  I  like  music?  Mel  No,  I  mean  yes,  when  it  is 
like  that  1 "  he  exclaimed,  beginning  his  reply  with  a 
tremolo  and  finishing  bravura. 

»*  That  is  my  daughter  playing ;  come  inside  with  me." 
if  The  hand  of  the  great  man  reached  out,  and  the 

83 


GIUSEPPE  urchin  clutched  at  it  as  if  it  were  something  he  had 
VERDI  been  looking  and  longing  for. 

They  walked  through  the  big  gates  where  a  stone  lion 
kept  guard  on  each  side.  The  lions  never  moved.  They 
walked  up  the  steps  and  entering  the  pzirlor,  saw  a 
young  woman  seated  at  the  piano. 
**  Grazia,  dear,  here  is  the  little  boy  we  saw  the  other 
day — ^you  remember  ?  I  thought  I  would  bring  him  in.*' 
ff  The  young  woman  came  forward  and  touched  the 
lad  on  his  tawny  head  with  one  of  her  beautiful  hands 
— ^the  beautiful  hands  that  had  just  been  playing  the 
Sonata  if  if 

"  That 's  right,  little  boy,  we  have  seen  you  outside 

there  before,  &  if  I  had  known  you  were  there  tonight, 

I  would  have  gone  out  and  brought  you  in ;  but  Papa 

has  done  the  service  for  me.  Now,  you  must  sit  down 

right  over  there  where  I  can  see  you,  and  I  will 

play  for  you.  But  won't  you  tell  us  your  name  ?" 

jir**Me?"  replied  the  boy,  *<  why,  my  name 

is  Giuseppe  Verdi— I   am  ten  years 

old,  going  on  'leven — you  see  I 

like  your  playing  because  I 

play  myself,   a  little!" 


84 


OR  over  a  hundred  years  three-  GIUSEPPE 
fourths  of  the  population  of  Italy  VERDI 
have  been  on  reduced  rations.  Star- 
vation even  yet  crouches  just 
around  the  corner. 
In  his  childhood  young  Verdi  used 
to  wear  a  bit  of  rope  for  a  girdle,  and 
when  hunger  gnawed  importunate- 
ly, he  would  simply  pull  his  belt 
one  knot  tighter,  and  pray  that  the  ravens  would  come 
and  treat  him  as  well  as  they  did  Elijah.  His  parents 
were  so  poor  that  the  question  of  education  never 
came  to  them ;  but  desire  has  its  way,  so  we  find  the 
boy  at  ten  years  of  age  running  errands  for  a  grocer 
with  a  musical  attachment.  This  grocer,  at  Busseto, 
Jasquith  by  name,  hung  upon  the  fringe  of  art,  and 
made  the  dire  mistake  of  mixing  business  with  his 
fad,  for  he  sold  his  wares  to  sundry  gentlemen  who 
played  in  bands.  This  led  the  good  man  to  moralize  at 
times,  and  he  would  say  to  Giuseppe,  who  had  been 
promoted  from  errand  boy  to  clerk,  **  You  can  trust  a 
first  violin,  and  a  cello  usually  pays,  but  never  say  yes 
to  a  trombone  or  an  oboe ;  and  as  for  a  kettledrum,  1 
wouldn't  believe  one  on  a  stack  of  Bibles!" 
Over  the  grocer's  shop  was  a  little  parlor,  and  in  it 
was  a  spinet  that  young  Giuseppe  had  the  use  of  four 
evenings  a  week.  In  his  later  years  Verdi  used  to  tell 
of  this,  and  once  he  said  that  the  idea  of  prohibition 
and  limit  should  be  put  on  every  piano, — then  the  pupil 

8s 


GIUSEPPE  would  make  the  best  of  his  privileges  ^ff  In  those  days 
VERDI  there  was  a  tax  on  spinets,  and  I  believe  that  this  tax 
has  never  been  rescinded,  for  you  are  taxed  if  you 
keep  a  piano,  now,  in  any  part  of  Italy.  Seversd  times 
the  poor  grocer's  spinet  stood  in  sore  peril  from  the 
publicans  and  sinners,  but  the  bailiffs  were  bought  off 
by  Signior  Barezzi  who  came  to  the  rescue. 
The  note  of  thrift  was  even  then  in  Verdi's  score,  for 
he  himself  has  told  how  he  induced  the  Barezzi  house- 
hold to  patronize  the  honest  grocer  with  musical  pro- 
clivities jjr  3«r 

When  he  was  twelve  years  old  Verdi  occasionally 
played  the  organ  in  the  village  church  at  Busseto.  It 
will  be  seen  from  this  that  he  had  courage,  and  even 
then  possessed  a  trace  of  that  pride  and  self-will  that 
was  to  be  first  his  disadvantage  and  then  his  blessing. 
0*  Signior  Barezzi' s  attachment  to  the  boy  was  very 
great,  and  we  find  the  youngster  was  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  family,  having  free  use  of  their  piano, 
with  valuable  help  and  instruction  from  Signiorina 
Grazia  <r  <r 

"When  he  was  seventeen  he  was  easily  the  first  musi- 
cian in  the  place,  and  Busseto  had  nothing  more  to 
offer  in  way  of  advantages*  He  thirsted  for  a  wider 
career,  and  cast  longing  looks  out  into  the  great  out- 
side world.  He  had  played  at  Parma,  only  a  few  miles 
away,  and  the  bishop  there,  sifter  hearing  him  impro- 
vise on  the  organ,  had  paid  him  a  doubtful  compli- 
ment by  sayings  "  Your  playing  is  surely  unlike  any- 
86 


thing  ever  before  heard  at  Parma."  if  Fair  fortune  GIUSEPPE 
smiled  when  Signior  Barezzi  secured  for  young  Verdi  VERDI 
a  free  scholarship  at  the  Conservatory  of  Milan. 
The  youth  went  gaily  forth,  attended  by  the  blessings 
of  the  whole  village,  to  claim  his  honors. 
Arriving  at  the  Conservatory,  the  directors  put  him 
through  his  paces,  after  the  usual  custom,  to  prove 
his  fitness  for  the  honor  that  had  been  thrust  upon 
him.  He  played  first  upon  the  piano,  and  the  commit- 
tee  advised  together  in  whispered   monotone.  Then 
they  asked  him  to  play  on  the  organ,  and  there  was 
more  consultation,  with  argument  punctuated  by  roll- 
ing adjectives  and  many  picturesque  gesticulations. 
if  Then  they  asked  him  to  play  the  piano  again.  He 
did  so,  and  the  great  men  retired  to  deliberate  and 
vote  on  the  issue  if  if 

Their  decision  was  that  the  youth  was  self-willed, 
erratic,  and  that  he  had  some  absurd  mannerisms  and 
tricks  of  performance  that  forbade  his  ever  making  a 
musician.  And,  therefore,  they  ruled  that  his  admis- 
sion to  the  Conservatory  was  impossible. 
Barezzi,  who  was  present  with  his  protege,  stormed 
in  wrath,  and  declared  that  Verdi  was  the  peer  of  any 
of  his  judges ;  in  fact,  was  so  much  beyond  them  that 
they  could  not  comprehend  him. 

This  only  confirmed  the  powers  in  the  stand  they  had 
taken,  and  they  intimated  that  a  great  musician  in 
Busseto  was  something  different  in  Milan — Signior 
Barezzi  had  better  take  his  young  man  home  and  be 

87 


GIUSEPPE  content  to  astonish  the  villagers  with  noisy  acrobat- 
VERDI  ics  ^  There  being  nothing  else  to  do,  the  advice  was 
first  flouted  and  then  followed.  They  arrived  home, 
and  Grazia  and  the  grocer  were  informed  that  the  Con- 
servatory at  Milan  was  a  delusion  &  a  snare — **  a  place 
where  pebbles  were  polished  and  diamonds  dimmed." 
ff  Shortly  after,  the  townspeople,  to  show  their  faith 
in  the  home-product,  had  Verdi  duly  installed  as  or- 
ganist of  the  village  church  at  a  salary  equal  to  forty 
dollars  a  year. 

Under  the  spell  of  this  good  fortune,  Verdi  proposed 
marriage  to  the  daughter  of  Jasquith,  the  grocer,  his 
friend  and  benefactor.  Gratitude  to  the  man  who  had 
first  assisted  him,  had  much  to  do  with  the  alliance ; 
and  in  wedding  the  daughter,  Verdi  simply  complied 
with  what  he  knew  to  be  the  one  ardent  desire  of  the 

father  jT^* 

The  girl  was  a  frail  creature,  of  fine  instincts,  but  her 
intellect  had  been  starved  just  as  her  body  had  been. 
Her  chief  virtue  seems  to  have  been  that  she  believed 
absolutely  in  the  genius  of  Verdi. 
The  ambition  of  Verdi  began  to  show  itself.  He  wrote 
an  opera,  and  offered  it  to  Marelli,  the  impresario  of 
La  Scala  at  Milan.  The  impresario  had  heard  of  Verdi, 
through  the  fact  that  he  had  been  black-balled  by  the 
Conservatory.  This  of  itself  would  have  been  no  pass- 
port to  fame,  but  the  Committee  saw  fit  to  defend 
themselves  in  the  matter  by  making  a  public  report  of  the 
considerations  which  had  moved  them  to  shut  the  doors 
88 


on  the  young  man  from  Busseto.  This  gave  the  sub-  GIUSCPPJB 
ject  a  weight  and  prominence  that  simple  admission  VERDI 
never  would  have  given. 

Marelli,  the  Major  Pond  of  Milan,  saw  the  expressions 
"bizarre,"  ** erratic,"  "unprecedented,"  and  "pecu- 
liar," and  kept  his  eye  on  the  young  man.  And  so  when 
the  opera  was  written  he  pounced  upon  it,  thinking 
possibly  a  new  star  had  appeared  on  the  musical  hor- 
izon if  The  opera  was  accepted.  Verdi,  feverish  with 
hope,  moved  his  scanty  effects  to  Milan,  and  there 
with  his  frail  and  beautiful  girl-wife  and  their  baby 
boy,  lived  in  a  garret  just  across  from  the  theatre. 
Preparations  for  the  performance  were  going  on  apace. 
The  night  of  November  17th,  1839,  came,  and  the  play 
was  presented  if  The  critics  voted  it  a  failure.  Marel- 
li, the  manager,  saw  that  it  was  not  strong  enough 
with  which  to  storm  the  town,  and  so  decided  to  aban- 
don it  if  He  liked  the  young  composer,  though,  and  ad- 
mired his  work :  and  inasmuch  as  he  had  brought  him  to 
Milan,  he  felt  a  sort  of  obligation  to  help  him  along. 
So  Verdi  was  given  an  order  for  am  opera  bouffe.  That 's 
it !  Opera  bouffe  ! — ^the  people  want  comedy — they 
must  be  amused.  Even  Verdi's  serious  work  ran  dan- 
gerously close  to  farce — bouffe  is  the  thing ! 
Marelli's  hope  was  infectious.  Verdi  began  work  on 
the  new  play  that  was  to  be  presented  in  the  spring. 
if  The  winter  rains  began.  There  was  no  fire  in  the 
garret  where  the  composer  and  his  frail  girl-wife  lived. 
They  were  so  proud  that  they  did  aot  let  the  folks  at 

89 


GIUSEPPE  Busseto  know  where  they  were :  even  Marelli  did  not 
VERDI  know  their  place  of  abode  iff  Under  an  assumed  name 
Verdi  got  occasional  work  as  underling  in  one  of  the 
theatres,  and  also  played  the  piano  at  a  restaurant. 
The  wages  thus  earned  were  a  pittance,  but  he  maui- 
aged  to  take  home  soup-bones  that  the  baby -boy  sucked 
on  as  though  they  were  nectsir. 

Another  baby  was  born  that  winter.  The  mother  was 
unattended,  save  by  her  husband — ^no  other  woman 
was  near.  Verdi  mzmaged  to  bring  home  scraps  of  food 
by  stealth  from  the  restaurant  where  he  played,  but  it 
was  not  the  kind  that  was  needed.  There  was  no 
money  to  buy  goat's  milk  for  the  new-born  babe,  and 
the  famishing  mother,  ever  hopeful,  assured  the  hus- 
band it  wasn't  necessary — ^that  the  babe  was  doing 
well  if  The  child  grew  a-weary  of  this  world  before  a 
month  had  passed,  and  slept  to  wake  no  more. 
But  the  opera  bouffe  was  taking  shape.  It  was  rehearsed 
and  hummed  by  husband  and  wife  together.  They 
went  over  it  all  again  and  again,  and  struck  out  and 
added  to.  It  was  splendid  work — subtle,  excruciatingly 
funny,  and  possessed  a  dash  and  go  that  would  sweep 
all  carping  criticism  before  it. 

Food  was  still  scarce,  and  there  was  no  fuel  even  to 
cook  things ;  but  as  there  was  nothing  to  cook,  it  really 
made  no  difference.  Spring  was  coming, — it  was  cold, 
to  be  sure,  but  the  buds  were  swelling  on  the  trees  in 
the  park.  Verdi  had  seen  them  with  his  own  eyes,  and 
he  hastened  home  to  tell  his  wife — Spring  was  coming  1 
go 


The  two-year-old  boy  did  n't  seem  to  thrive  on  soup-  GIUSEPPE 
bones.  The  father  used  to  hold  him  in  his  arms  at  night  VERDI 
to   warm  the   little  form   against  his  own  body.  He 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  the  child  cold  and  stiff.  The 
boy  was  dead  <r  if 

The  mother  used  to  lie  abed  all  day  now.  She  was  n't 
ill,  she  said, — just  tired !  She  never  looked  so  beauti- 
ful to  her  husband.  Two  bright  pink  spots  marked  her 
cheeks,  and  set  off  the  alabaster  of  her  complexion. 
Her  eyes  glowed  with  such  a  light  as  Verdi  had  never 
before  seen  if  No,  she  was  not  ill,  she  protested  this 
again  and  again.  She  kept  to  her  bed  merely  to  be 
warm ;  and  then  if  one  did  n't  move  around  much,  less 
food  was  required — don't  you  see  ? 
Spring  had  come  if  The  opera  was  being  rehearsed. 
The  title  of  the  play  was  **  Un  Giornodi  Regno."  Ma- 
relli  said  he  thought  it  would  be  a  success  ;  Verdi  was 
sure  oi'Wif  if 

The  night  of  presentation  came  if  After  the  first  act 
Verdi  ran  across  the  street,  leaped  up  the  stairs,  three 
steps  at  a  time,  and  reached  the  garret.  The  play  was 
a  success.  The  worn  woman  there  on  her  pallet,  the 
pale  moonlight  streaming  in  on  her  face,  knew  it  would 
be.  She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  tried  to  call 
**Viva  Verdi!"  But  the  cough  cut  her  words  short. 
Verdi  kissed  her  forehead,  her  hands,  her  hair,  and 
hurried  back  in  time  to  see  the  curtain  ascend  on  the 
second  act  if  This  act  went  without  either  applause 
or  disapproval  if  Verdi  ran  home  just  to  say  that  the 

91 


GIUSEPPE  audience  was  a  trifle  critical,  but  the  play  was  all  right 

VERDI  — it  was  a  success !  He  said  he  would  remain  at  home 

now,  he  would  not  go  to  hear  the  third  and  last  act. 

He  would  attend  his  wife  until  she  got  well  and  strong. 

The  play  was  a  success  ! 

She  prevailed  upon  him  to  leave  her,  and  then  come 
back  at  the  finale  and  tell  her  all  about  it. 
He  went  away  ^  i/f 

When  he  returned  he  stumbled  up  the  stairway  and 
slowly  entered  the  door. 

The  last  act  had  not  been  completed — the  audience 

had  hissed  the  players  from  the  stage ! 

Upon  the  ashen  face   of  her  husband,  the   stricken 

woman   read   all  j^   She  tried  to  smile  jflf  She 

reached  out  one  thin  hand  on  which  loosely 

hung  a  marriage  ring.  The  hand  dropped 

before  he  could  reach  it.   The  eyes 

of  the  woman  were  closed,  but 

upon  the  long  black  lashes 

glistened  two  big  tears  ^T 

The  spirit  was  brave, 

but  the  body  had 

given  up  the 

struggle. 


9a 


HE  calamities  that  had  come 
sweeping  over  Verdi  well  nigh 
broke  his  proud  heart.  He  was 
only  twenty-six,  but  he  had  had  a 
taste  of  life  and  found  it  bitter. 
He  lost  interest  in  everything.  All 
^  musical  studies  were  abandoned, 
his  little  excursions  into  science 
went  by  default,  and  he  was  quite 
content  to  bang  the  piano  in  a  concert  saloon  for  enough 
to  procure  the  bare  necessaries  of  life.  Suicide  seemed 
to  present  the  best  method  of  solving  the  problem,  and 
the  various  ways  of  shuffling  off  this  mortal  coil  were 
duly  considered.  Meanwhile  he  filled  in  the  time  read- 
ing trashy  novels — anything  to  forget  time  and  place, 
and  lose  self  in  poppy  dreams  of  nothingness. 
Two  years  of  such  blankness  and  blackness  followed. 
He  was  sure  that  the  desire  to  create,  to  be,  to  do, 
would  never  come  again, — these  were  all  of  the  past. 
if  One  day  on  an  idle  stroll  through  the  park  he  met 
Marelli.  As  they  walked  along  together  Marelli  took 
from  his  pocket  a  book,  the  story  of  **  Nabucco,"  and 
handing  it  to  Verdi,  asked  him  to  look  it  over,  and  see  if 
he  thought  there  was  a  chance  to  make  an  opera  out  of  it. 
if  Verdi  responded  that  he  was  not  in  the  business  of 
w^riting  operas — he  had  quit  all  such  follies.  He  took 
the  volume,  however,  but  neglected  to  look  at  it  for 
several  days.  At  last  he  read  the  pages.  He  laid  the 
book  down  and  began  to  pace  the  floor.  Possibilities 

93 


GIUSEPPE 
VERDI 


GIUSEPPE  of  creation  were  looming  large  before  him— a  rush  of 
VERDI  thought  was  upon  him.  His  soul  was  not  dead — it  had 
only  been  lying  fallow. 

He  secured  the  loan  of  a  piano  and  set  to  work.  In  a 
month  the  opera  was  completed.  Marelli  hesitated 
about  accepting  it — twice  he  had  lost  money  on  Verdi. 
He  finally  decided  he  would  put  the  play  on  if  Verdi 
would  waive  all  royalties  for  the  first  three  perform- 
ances, if  it  were  a  success,  and  then  sell  the  opera  out- 
right **  at  a  reasonable  price,*'  if  Marelli  should  chance 
to  want  it.  The  "reasonable  price"  was  assumed  to 
be  about  a  thousand  francs — two  hundred  dollars- 
pretty  good  pay  for  a  month's  work. 
Verdi  took  no  interest  in  the  production  of  the  piece. 
He  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  public  was  a 
fickle,  foolish  thing,  and  no  one  could  tell  what  it  would 
applaud  or  hiss.  Then  he  remembered  the  blackness  of 
the  night  when  only  two  years  before  his  other  opera 
was  produced  4f  ^T 
He  made  his  way  to  his  dingy  little  room  and  went  to 

bed  jTjT 

Very  early  the  next  morning  there  was  a  loud  pound- 
ing on  his  door.  It  was  Marelli.  "  How  much  for  your 
opera?"  asked  the  impresario,  pushing  his  way  into 
the  room  jC 

"  Thirty  thousand  francs,"  came  a  voice,  loud  &  clear, 
out  of  the  bed-clothes. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  returned  Marelli — *'  why  do  you 
ask  such  a  suml" 
94 


Because  you  are  here  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  GIUSEPPE 


-the  price  will  be  fifty  thousand  this  afternoon. 

Ten  minutes  of  parley  followed,  and  then 

Marelli  drew  his  check  for  twenty 

thousand  francs,  and  Verdi  gave 

his  quit-claim,  turned  over, 

and  went  to  sleep. 


VERDI 


95 


GIUSEPPE 
VERDI 


-TTHE  success   of  "Nabucco*'   was 
complete.  Its  author  had  his  twen- 
ty thousand   francs,   but   Marelli 
made  more  than  that  iff 
From  1842  to  1851  may  be  called 
the  first  Verdi  Period.  A  dozen 
^^355(j%m   successful  operas  were  produced, 
$5^S[^4|j^;  and  simultaneously  at  Rome,  Na- 
^"l*  ..^..-^^fJJ  pies,  Venice,  Florence,  Milan,  and 
Genoa,  Verdi's  compositions  were  being  presented. 
The  master  was  a  business  man,  as  well  as  an  artist, — 
the  combination  is  not  so  unusual  as  was  long  believed 
— and  knew  how  to  get  the  most  for  the  mintage  of  his 
mind.  Money  fairly  flowed  his  way. 
In  1850  Verdi  married  again.  His  life  now  turns  into 
what  we  may  call  the  Second  Verdi  Period.  After  this 
we  shall  see  no  more  such  curious  exhibitions  of  bad 
taste  as  a  ballet  of  forty  witches  in  **  Macbeth,"  caper- 
ing nimbly  to  a  syncopated  melody,  with  **  Lady  Mac- 
beth "  in  a  needlessly  abbreviated  skirt  singing  a  drink- 
ing song  to  an  absent  lover.  In  strenuous  efforts  to 
avoid  coarseness  Verdi  may  occasionally  give  us  soft 
sentimentality,  but  the  change  is  for  the  best. 
His  mate  was  a  woman  of  mind  as  well  as  heart.  She 
was  his  intellectual  companion,  his  friend,  his  wife. 
For  nearly  fifty  years  they  lived  together.  Her  dust 
now  lies  in  the  "  House  of  Rest,'*  at  Milan,  a  home 
for  aged  artists,  founded  by  Verdi.  This  **  House  of 
Rest"  was  a  Love  Offering,  dedicated  to  the  woman 
96 


who  had  given  him,  without  stint,  of  the  richness  of  GIUSEPPE 
her  nature ;  who  had  bestowed  rest,  and  peace,  and  VERDI 
hope  and  gentle  love.  She  had  no  feverish  ambitions 
and  petty  plans  and  schemes  for  secretly  corralling 
pleasure,  power,  place,  attention,  or  selfish  admira- 
tion. By  giving  all,  she  won  all.  She  devoted  herself  to 
this  man  in  whom  she  had  perfect  faith,  and  he  had 
perfect  faith  in  her.  She  ministered  to  him.  They  grew 
great  together.  When  each  was  over  eighty  years  of 
age,  Henry  James  saw  them  at  Cremona,  at  a  musical 
festival  in  honor  of  the  birthday  of  Stradivarius.  And 
thus  wrote  Henry  James  :  **  Verdi  and  his  wife  were 
there,  admired  above  all  others.  And  why  not?  Think 
of  whom  they  are,  and  what  they  stand  for — nearly  a 
century  of  music,  and  a  century  of  life  !  The  master  is 
tall,  straight,  proud,  commanding.  He  has  a  courtly  old- 
time  grace  of  bearing;  and  he  kissed  his  wife's  hand 
when  he  took  leave  of  her  for  an  hour's  stroll.  And 
the  Madame  surely  is  not  old  in  spirit ;  she  is  as 
sprightly  as  our  own  Mrs.  John  Sherwood,  who 
translated  *  Carcasonne '  so  well  that  she 
improved  on  the  original,  because  in 
her  heart   spring   fresh  and  fra- 
grant   every    day   the    flow- 
ers   of    tender,    human, 

God-like  sympathy."  . 


97 


GIUSEPPE  UMPHRBBHIGOLETTA,  produced  at  Venice 
VERDI  lmS5K?^€ittM  in  1851,  is  founded  on  Victor  Hu- 
go's **Le  Roi  s'amuse;"  and  the 
music  has  all  the  dramatic  fire  that 
matches  the   Hugo  plot.  Verdi's 
devotion  to  Victor  Hugo  is  seen 
again  in  the  use  of  **  Hernani  **  for 
operatic  purposes.  **  II  Trovatore  " 
and**LaTraviata"  followed  "  Rig- 
oletta,"  and  these  three  operas  are  usually  put  forward 
as  the  Verdi  masterpieces.  The  composer  himself  re- 
garded them  with  favor  that  may  well  be  pardoned, 
since  he  used  to  say  that  he  and  his  wife  collaborated 
in  their  production — she  writing  the  music  and  he 
looking  on.  The  proportion  of  truth  and  poetry  in  this 
statement  is  not  on  record.   But  the  simple  fact  re- 
mains that  **  II  Trovatore  "  was  always  a  favorite  with 
Verdi,  and  even  down  to  his  death  he  would  travel 
long  distances  to  hear  it  played.  A  correspondent  of  the 
"Musical  Courier,"  writing  in  1887  from  Paris,  says: 
"  Verdi  and  his  wife  occupied  a  box  last  evening  at  the 
Grand  Opera  House.  The  piece  was  *  II  Trovatore,* 
and  many  smiles  were  caused  by  the  sight  of  the  au- 
thor and  his  spouse  seemingly  leading  the  claque  as  if 
they  would  split  their  gloves." 

The  flaming  forth  of  creative  genius  that  produced  the 
"  Rigoletta,"  "  II  Trovatore,"  and  «*  La  Traviata,"  sub- 
sided into  a  placid  calm.  The  serene  happiness  of  Verdi's 
married  life,  the  fortune  that  had  come  to  him,  and  the 
98 


consciousness  of  having  won  in  spite  of  great  obsta-  GIUSEPPE 
cles,  led  to  the  thought  of  quiet  and  well-earned  rest.  VERDI 
if  The  master  interested  himself  in  politics,  and  was 
elected  to  represent  the  district  of  Parma  in  the  Ital- 
ian Parliament.  He  proved  himself  a  man  of  power — 
practical,  self-centered  and  business-like,  and  as  such 
served  his  country  well. 

The  sentiment  of  the  man  is  shown  in  his  buying  the 
property  at  Busseto,  his  old  home,  which  was  owned 
by  Signior  Barezzi.  He  removed  the  high  picket  fence, 
replacing  it  with  a  low  stone  wall ;  remodeled  the 
house,  and  turned  the  conservatory  into  a  small  thea- 
tre, where  free  concerts  were  often  given  with  the 
help  of  the  villagers.  The  adjoining  grounds  and  splen- 
did park  were  free  to  the  public. 

The  master's  attention  to  music  was  now  limited  to 
enjoying  it  if  So  passed  the  days. 
Ten  years  of  the  life  of  a  country  gentleman  went  by, 
and  the  Shah  of  Persia,  who  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
Italy  and  met  Verdi,  sent  a  command  for  an  opera. 
The  plot  must  be  laid  in  the  East,  the  characters  Moor- 
ish and  the  whole  to  be  dedicated  to  the  immortal  Son 
of  the  Sun, — ^the  Shah. 

It  is  a  little  doubtful  whether  the  Shah  knew  that  operas 
are  produced  only  in  certain  moods,  and  cannot  be 
done  to  order  as  a  carpenter  builds  a  fence.  But  it  was 
the  way  that  Eastern  Royalty  had  of  showing  its  high 
esteem  if  if 

Verdi  smiled,  and  his  wife  smiled,  and  they  had  quite  a 

99 


GIUSEPPE  merry  little  time  over  the  matter,  calling  in  the  neigh- 
VERDI  bors  and  friends,  and  drinking  to  the  health  of  a  real  live 
Shah  who  knew  a  great  musical  genius  when  he  found 
one.  But  suddenly  the  matter  began  to  take  form  in 
the  master's  mind.  He  set  to  work,  and  the  result  was 
that  **Aida"  was  completed  in  a  few  weeks.  The 
stories  often  told  of  the  long  preparation  for  compos- 
ing this  opera  reveal  the  fine  imagination  of  the  men 
who  write  for  the  newspapers.  Verdi  seized  upon 
knowledge  as  a  devil-fish  absorbs  its  prey — he  learned 
in  the  mass  if  if 

"  Aida"  was  produced  at  Cairo  in  1871  with  a  magnifi- 
cent setting,  and  the  best  cast  procurable.  A  new  Verdi 
opera  was  an  event,  and  critics  went  from  London, 
Paris,  and  other  capitals  to  see  the  performance. 
The  first  thing  the  knowing  ones  said  was  that  Verdi 
was  touched  with  Wagnerism,  and  that  he  had  stud- 
ied **  Lohengrin  "  with  painstaking  care.  If  Verdi  was 
influenced  by  Wagner,  it  was  for  good ;  but  there  was 
no  servile  imitation  in  it.  The  *'  Aida"  is  rich  in  melo- 
dy, reveals  a  fine  balance  between  singers  and  orches- 
tra, and  the  "local  color"  is  correct  even  to  the  chorus 
of  Congo  slaves  that  were  introduced  at  the  Cairo  per- 
formance if  if 

All  agreed  that  the  rest  had  done  the  master  good,  and 
the  correspondents  wrote,  *<  We  will  look  anxiously 
for  his  next."  They  thought  the  stream  had  started 
and  there  would  be  an  overflow. 

But  they  were  mistaken.  Sixteen  years  of  quiet  farm- 
zoo 


ing  followed.  Verdi  was  more  interested  in  his  flowers  GIUSEPPE 
than  his  music,  and  told  Philip  Hale,  who  made  a  pious  VERDI 
pilgrimage  to  Busseto  in  1883,  that  he  loved  his  horses 
more  than  all  the  prima  donnas  on  earth. 
But  in  1887  the  artistic  and  music-loving  worid  was 
surprised  and  delighted  with  **  Othello."  This  grand 
performance  made  amends  for  the  mangling  of  Mac- 
beth. Mr.  James  Hunekersays:  "The  character-draw- 
ing in  Othello  is  done  with  the  burin  of  a  master ;  the 
plot  moves  in  processional  splendor ;  the  musical  psy- 
chology is  subtle  and  inevitable.  At  last  the  genius  of 
Verdi   has  flowered.  The  work  is  consummate  and 
complete"  <r  ^ 

**  Falstaff  "  came  next,  written  by  a  greybeard  of  eighty, 
as  if  just  to  prove  that  the  heart  does  not  grow  old.  It 
is  the  work  of  an  octogenarian  who  loved  life  and  had 
seen  the  world  of  show  and  sense  from  every  side. 
Old  men  usually  moralize  and  live  in  the  past — not  so 
here.  The  play  flows  with  a  laughing,  joyous,  rippling 
quality  that  disarmed  the  critics  and  they  apologized  for 
what  they  said  about  "Wagnerian  motives.  There 
were  no  sad,  solemn,  recurring  themes  in 
the  full  ripened  fruit  of  Verdi's  genius. 
When  he  died,  aged   eighty-seven, 
the  curtain   fell  on  the  career  of 
a  great  and  potent  personal- 
ity— the  one  unique  sing- 
er of  the   century. 

zoz 


so  HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE 
HOME  OF  GIUSEPPE  VERDI,  AS  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD,  THE  TITLE  PAGE,  INITIALS  AND  ORNA- 
MENTS BEING  DESIGNED  BY  SAMUEL  WARNER,  AND 
THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOKLET  BY  THE  ROY- 
CROFTERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURO- 
RA. IN  THE  MONTH   OF  OCTOBER  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMI. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THEi  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN     INITIAL     FINE     OF     25     CENTS 

WILL   BE  ASSESSED    FOR    FAILURE  TO    RETURN 
THIS    BOOK   ON   THE   DATE  DUE.     THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY     AND     TO     $1.00     ON     THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

MAR  24  1933 

WAR   21  1936 

'^4fl| 

*  ^rsiiio 

,     -r^^^vT^^^^M 

mdo^s^Qfn 

APR  m  wn 

■ 

MAY  6    ba4 

LD  21-50m-l,'33 

DATE  DUE 


S 


Music  Library  Si 

University  of  California  at 
Berkeley 


